


Understanding

by still_lycoris



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst, Comfort Sex, Episode: S02ep09 Countdown, M/M, guilty sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1338001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of "Countdown", Avon takes Del Grant on a tour of the Liberator. Followed by other things ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Understanding

Once Del Grant was on the _Liberator_ it only made sense that he’d want to see it. And of course, it was totally logical that Avon would be the one who would show him. After all, they had a history. They had apparently reached a truce. What better way to fix it?

Avon tried to look relaxed. Tried to seem comfortable as he led Del around the ship, telling him little things, little stories. He wished Vila was doing this instead. Vila was good at bright enthusiasm. He never was, even with people he did not have history in.

He didn’t show Del the treasure room. Del was still a mercenary after all. No point taking chances.

It seemed logical to show Del his cabin after all of that. Give him an idea of how he lived now, his personal space. Seemed logical to offer him a drink and then to let him start looking at things, discussing objects that he had picked up on other planets, the things that he had done since taking up with Blake. Del told him about some things he had done too and it was nice really, almost friendly except that they were avoiding the elephant in the room and they both knew they were, neither of them willing to bring up Anna’s name until it was finally unavoidable.

“Do you have a picture of her, Avon?”

He took out the picture he had managed to get using Zen, a simple snap of her face, haloed by her lovely hair. He kept it hidden, didn’t want Blake or Vila seeing it on an unannounced foray into his cabin. It was bad enough that Blake knew now, bad enough that Blake would ask … 

Del took the image , stared at it and Avon hated the pain he could see there, hated knowing the same pain was trapped in his own heart, locked there forever. He didn’t want it, he didn’t want to feel …

He sat next to Del, awkwardly touched his shoulder. He wasn’t good at comfort, never had been. But Del seemed to accept it, even seemed to lean into the touch a little, saying how much he missed Anna, how it still hurt, did Avon feel it too?

“Yes. Every day.”

He thought Del might cry, was glad when he didn’t. He couldn’t do tears, not even his own, hadn’t even cried when he’d read that Anna was dead. It just hurt inside, a cold, icy pain that he didn’t think would ever melt.

He realised he was rubbing Del’s shoulder now but Del didn’t seem to mind so he didn’t stop it, it felt rather nice really, oddly pleasant … he didn’t get to touch people often, he didn’t _like_ to touch people often but this was all right, this was almost warming …

He didn’t think he wanted to talk about Anna much, was glad that Del didn’t seem to want to talk any longer either. He had put the picture down, sat staring at his hands instead, then reached up and touched Avon’s shoulder and Avon was still touching him so it was almost like an embrace.

He thought it was him that made it a kiss but it was difficult to tell. He hadn’t exactly meant to do it, it was just that Del was there and he was warm and confused and Del was looking at him and his eyes were so like Anna’s, everything about them and the hair too and for a moment, just for a moment, he was half-pretending and Del was letting him, more than that, Del was kissing him back, kissing and touching and making soft sounds, soft, longing sounds …

And Avon felt a pulse straight to his groin and he _wanted_ , he hadn’t had for such a long time but he did now and he was clutching Del and pushing against him unthinkingly and Del groaned and one hand grabbed Avon’s hip, holding it close and he was kissing back harder, other hand coming up to touch Avon’s hair, his cheek, his neck and Avon wondered if he was thinking about Anna, wondering how Anna had done this, how Anna had liked to be kissed and touched by Avon’s hands …

And then Del’s hand was on his thigh and Avon wasn’t thinking about anything at all.

It was strangely shaming to him. He _wanted_ it to be about Anna, wanted it to be about guilt and pretence and trying to recapture what was gone and an almost incestuous need. He didn’t want it to be his body craving touch, didn’t want it to be a buried desire that he had hardly thought of for years, didn’t want it to be simply that Del was warm and good and knew where to put his hands and that his voice was pleasingly rough in Avon’s ears as he coaxed and demanded and Avon gave willingly, arching and squirming and lost in want.

Del got off him immediately afterwards. Avon was glad. He didn’t want cuddles. He didn’t want to pretend it was all right. It wasn’t all right. It never would be. Nothing was all right. That was how it had to be.

They didn’t talk about it. They washed and dressed and left the cabin in silence, going back to the others. Del talked quite normally to Blake, thanked him for everything, seemed agreeable when Blake suggested they might get in touch again some day. Avon stood, quiet and still and keeping his face as blank as possible, as though none of this meant anything.

They only touched once more before Del left, to shake hands. It was a dry, impersonal touch which Avon knew Blake would see as important. He didn’t know. He didn’t understand. He wouldn’t have understood if _it_ hadn’t happened, he wouldn’t understand at all now.

After all, if Avon didn’t understand, how could anybody else?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2014 LJ 40fandoms challenge.


End file.
